Letter had received on Muggle post
by Hermione Jean McGonagall
Summary: Harry Potter had received a letter from J. K. Rowling.  Harry Potter/Jo Rowling  TRANSLATE from Russian.


Fan-fiction's author: Fidelia

Original's language: Russian _  
><em>Title of fan-fictions on original's language: Письмо, пришедшее по маггловской почте

Address of it fan-fiction: .?fid=1173&l=0

Fan-fiction on site with 8.11.2004

Translate dedicate to dear bonnie Maggie Smith

Sorry me for my English.

P.S. I used "thou" and "thee" instead "you" because I want did translate like as original.

Letter was most usual. It was some yellow cover, postmark, address... But was one no - it had received on usual Muggle post. In Muggle post did not was nothing unusual, of course, but it fact... He had not received no one letter on Muggle post, never, at all his live, at all his 16 years.

First though was about what letter had brought on error. He was thinking that in London's the neighbourhoods, in shire Surrey live do not few Harry Potters. Absent postman put down letter in another's letterbox, was any.

Harry was twiddling cover and discerning all some more. No, letter was for him, address was correct. He was turn over what was knowing sender's address. It was United Kingdom, Scotland, Edinburg, King Road, manor «Magnolia», J. K. Rowling. Surname was not saying about nothing, absolutely about nothing. Nobody does not live in Edinburg - nobody from his acquaintance, friends or foes. It is possible would can remember about relatives, but he do not have relatives, therefore it the same J. K. do not can be to his by relatives.

Harry was tear a letter open and was take out sheet that was folded in two who was cover with writing illegible script. Maybe it J. strong hurrying or nervous, but maybe work doctor. All know what doctors have terrible script!

Letter begins by words «Hallo, Harry». Fully trite. Harry was deciding running it by eyes. Those, where sense was beginning gradually realizing to his, he was not can already stop. He was reading very attentively in lines to gripes in eyes, was squeezing sheet by tremble hands and was forgetting what must breathing. Yes, it letter true was addressing just his but was not something like namesake, which live hereabouts...

«Hallo, Harry. Thou probably was thinking what letter had received to thee on error, because thou had not received letters from Muggles once (do not account Christmas postcard from Dursley, of course). But wait laid aside it in side, first was reading. It main.

My name is Joan Kaitlin Rowling, thou do not know Me, probably, even do not hearted this name, although it highly known. And do not involve. Thee, probably, have astonished, what I am writing «Me» with capital letter, have in mind Myself, but I shall explain all in second. The point is what I demiurge. Creator. God. I was creating of thee.

I was creating Myself own Universal and control it sovereign - I manage of justice, execute and show mercy, take away and reward... It Harry Potter's Universal, who was calling so in thee honour.

Do not thinking Me abnormal, reading all first. Thou will understand, thou do not stupid boy, is not it?

I am not patient of lunatic asylum, I writer. I was inventing of thee. Of course, thou will turn by finger at temple and indignant, because thou person from flash and blood, wizard more than that. Thou has parents, which were presenting life to his, thou go, breathe, think, feel, thou alive... How was can inventing it all? But understand, thou do it all just because I want so. I force of thee laugh and cry, love and hate, fear and wish. I inspire to thee sense of hunger, tiredness, pity to himself or hatred to foes. I compel of thee fall in love, be proud of himself of feel pangs of conscience. I do it all.

Thou do not exist like as that world where thou live. No of Dursley, Hermione and Ron, no of school Hogwarts and of teachers' it, not of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named... No of Hagrid and of Sirius, no of Cho and of Hedwig, not of Ministry of Magic and of Black Forest. Not anything and nobody. I had creating it by force of Myself imagination and had embodied on paper. Thou is subjective reality, who exist in My head.

Thou, of course, can do not believe Me, but I am can proving myself rightness of thee. For example, question. Why thou do not was on parents' grave do not one in life? Do thee ungrateful son really? Do really thee not want press oneself by cheek to cold rough gravestone and give freedom tears never? Why thee was not put bouquet of field flowers on subside hillock and say: «I love thee, mamma»? But thou have not done it, although it fully naturally. The point is what I have forgotten about it simply. I have lost sight what from time to time customary go on cemetery and visit deceased. Therefore thou did not thanked never where bury thee mamma and dad. Or here some more. Which disposition floor Room of Requirement where you learn of Defends in addition? On eighth? But why prove to be eighth floor in Hogwarts if there in all seven first? Thou was knew about it, but then was forgetting for some reason... I was entangling simply and writing was not figure, which must and supplementary floor was arising in Hogwarts on my wish. Nobody was not notice it, even thou, because I was not permitting was understanding of thee, I was not putting it in thee head. Want is thou knowing some more? For example, Hermione would must has young sister. I tried all time inserted few phrases about her somewhere, but thou adventures full in head of Me completely. But I am thinking what will mention about her soon. Thou will not surprise already, when thee better friend speak about young sister, who will have arise without any reason... Is thou not believing to Me still?.. Well.

Did would thou thought, what thou it something middle, even quite middle, if so can say about person. Thee appearance it typical lad's appearance from local train, thou surname it most widespread boy's surname with whom I played in childhood*, thee temper it the temper of middle statistical teenager, from who live want very many... Thou it simply compilation from all what fall into My hands. Ron have good humour's sense, Hermione it sensible and quick-witted. Do thou? Which thou? What thou can say himself about himself? Just what thou it good friend. But it small what be real person... In thee, do not have nothing remember, not-hing. Scar on forehead and idiotic round glasses on noise that is all Harry Potter. Thou it gathers imagine as customary say at us, writers. Thee do not have, THOU DO NOT EXIST.

Thou it give result of My ill imagination, My project, My creation, My medicine against depression, My drug. I was inventing of thee, when Me was very badly and since that time thou it My property. I take of thee tiny portion as drastic medicine. I can on mood kill of thee or can doing thou immortal, can disgrace, but can present glory of thee... I CAN ALL.

The only what I DO NOT can it put of thee out from My head. Thou was penetrating in My head once and felt himself here as at home. I thing about thee when, eat when walk, when watch TV, when read or when take a shower. Thee haunt of me even in dream...Ты – собирательный образ, как принято говорить у нас, писателей.Ты – порождение Моей больной фантазии, Мой проект, Моё детище, Моё лекарство от депрессии, Мой наркотик.Я создала тебя, когда Мне было очень плохо, и с тех пор ты – Моя собственность.Я принимаю тебя ежедневно крохотными порциями, как сильнодействующее лекарство.По настроению Я могу убить тебя, а могу сделать бессмертным, могу опозорить, а могу подарить тебе славу..Я МОГУ ВСЁ.Единственное, чего Я НЕ могу, так это выбросить тебя из Своей головы. Однажды ты забрался туда и чувствуешь себя там как дома.Я думаю о тебе, когда ем, когда гуляю, когда смотрю телевизор, когда читаю или когда принимаю душ.Даже во сне ты преследуешь меня… Что бы ни происходило в Моей собственной жизни, Я постоянно ловлю Себя на мысли, что пытаюсь угадать, что бы ты сделал на Моём месте в той или иной ситуации, что сказал бы, что почувствовал, что подумал… Я уже не различаю, где кончается Мой реальный мир и начинается твой, выдуманный.Whatever happens in My own life, I take Myself on thought constantly, what try guess what would do if thou was on My shoes in that or other situation, what would say, felt think... I am not discerning already, where finish My real word and begin thee, make up. I dream in one's working hours, I live by thee live in thee world... I am illing by thee, thou bore Me, but I do not can do anything... Both thou do not exist without Me and I do not exist without of thee. I IT THOU... I IT NOBODY WITHOUT THEE...

I cursed of thee, Harry Potter how many time! I cursed of thee because idea about thee was turn out exactly in My head, but do not in other. Thou simply give result of My ill imagination, whichСколько раз Я проклинала тебя, Гарри Поттер!За то, что ты появился в Моей жизни, за то, что ты есть, за то, что идея о тебе пришла именно в Мою голову, а не чью-то другую.Ты всего навсего порождение Моей больной фантазии, вышедшей за рамки субъективной реальности, призрак Моего разума… Фантом, и ничего больше! appeared beyond the subjective reality, the ghost of my mind... Phantom and nothing more! Я так устала от тебя и твоего влияния… I am so tired of thee and of thee influence...

Then I decide revenge to thee, revenge severe. Yes, I wished death of thee, because I did not can so more. I had not thought anything better, than think dangerous adventures and terrible trials for thee, where thee could die. Thou collided with treason, lost of friends and intimates saw death and readied kill and it allТы сталкивался с предательством, терял друзей и близких, видел смерть и сам готов был убить, и всё это по Моей вине, по Моей прихоти… Ты бывал на грани безумия, стоял на пороге смерти, но в самый последний момент Я не выдерживала и спасала тебя, находила для тебя выход из практически безнадёжной ситуации, потому что… was on My fault, on My whim... Thou was on the madness' verge, stayed on death's verge do not once, but I was not self-controlling in most last moment, was finding way out from situation who was seem hopeless, because...

Because... Because I love thee. Thou it part of Me, part of My soul, thou it My creation, I do not can get rid from thee, I possessed and I so have tired of it...

Imaging, I go to psychoanalytic! I, most soberness and sensible woman in world, who have earned millions by Myself huge imagination, was going washing brains! And not without success. My doctor Crouch (familiar surname, is not it?) was advising write thee. Hmm, original therapy for rescue from cockroaches in head.

So, I have decided on extreme measures. Ridiculous, of course, write to invented character, but how am I can saying true to thee and get rid from thoughts, which haunt of Me, thoughts what thou suffer through My fault? Really, better angry postman throw out it, when will have not found non-existent addressee, but at Me shall easily on heart... I will know, what I did all, what in My powers.

Strictly speaking, I am writing because what shall beg at thee.

Harry, excuse Me, if can, what I compel of thee have go trough it all. Excuse Me at uncertainly in himself and fear, which I inspired, at solitude and incomprehension of friends, at trifle cavils, at bitterness of loss and feeling of hopelessness - at pain who I insisted felt of thee...

Excuse Me, Harry... Sorry and do not wicked on Me. I am promising what all will finish well. Already soon, wait not long... Doctor Crouch will save Me of thee forever at treatments that remain.

Be happy.

Love,

Joan Kaitlin Rowling, Demiurge.

P.S. Interestingly, what shall I do, if answer shall have received suddenly?»

Harry was read again few time and than was going at quill and parchment.

* Error! Jo and Dianne (Di it JKR's younger sister, difference is two years) friends with BROTHER AND SISTER with surname Potter.


End file.
